


invest yourself in something worth investing in

by fmradio



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 19:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmradio/pseuds/fmradio
Summary: Rachel had been oblivious for so long, but there came a point where she’d looked back on every interaction, every look, and understood that there was an energy between the two of them that went far beyond the limits of brief bathroom encounters. So yeah, losing Quinn after graduation was, in fact, a loss.And Rachel still can’t help but wonder if Quinn lost her, too.Just another college au.





	invest yourself in something worth investing in

When Rachel got back from her classes, it was already dark outside. She never liked how it got dark early in the winter time. She preferred when the sun was shining, as it always put her in a better mood.

Kurt had texted her earlier saying that he was out with a couple people from school, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be back.

She had absolutely no problem with a quiet night in. After putting her slippers and pajamas on, she walked out to the kitchen and stared into the fridge, trying to figure out what she was going to have for dinner.

Right as she was about to pull leftover curry out of the fridge, her phone began to ring from her bag. Her first instinct told her it was Kurt calling, but she quickly realized that it wasn’t his ringtone. Instead, it was the default one.  _ Probably just a spam caller, _ she thought, and went back to her curry, taking the top off and setting the container in the microwave to warm up.

A couple minutes later, her phone rang again. This time, the ringtone told her it was Kurt.

She sighed deeply, leaving her delicious-looking food behind that she had just pulled out of the microwave. If Kurt was going to ask her to come out and join them, she’d most definitely be declining the invitation. Her mind was already set on food time, bath time, and bed time. In that order.

She walked over to her bag that was sitting on the sofa, and pulled the phone out of the front pocket, sliding her finger across the screen. “Good evening, Kurt.”

“Oh good, you answered! I have a… question.” His end of the phone sounded like he was in a loud setting, probably a bar packed with a bunch of rowdy college students. Just listening to the noise was going to give her a headache.

“I’m really not feeling like going out tonight, Kurt.”

“That’s not my question. I wasn’t even going to offer, there’s this really cute guy here tonight and I’m thinking of—”

“What’s the question, Kurt?”

“How do you feel about some company?”

“I told you, I don’t feel like going out.”

“I don’t mean  _ you _ going out, I mean someone coming  _ there _ . To our apartment.” He giggled, then, almost like he was playing some sort of mean joke on her, or maybe he’s just drunk. How many bars in New York serve drinks to underage customers, anyways? She’s not sure she wants to know.

Rachel feels her stomach begin to twist in anticipation. “Who?”

“Someone special… oh! I have to go, the waiter’s here to take our order. They will be there shortly, Rachel. I’ll most likely see you tomorrow. Wish me luck, the cute boy awaits!”

She opens her mouth to argue, but then the phone goes silent, not giving her the chance to protest. Kurt had done many things in the past that were, frankly, extremely uncalled for, and this was no different. Except with those times, he was present, so she was able to berate his behavior right away. She almost calls him back, but she realizes that someone is coming. Shortly, apparently.

Rachel had grown to hate the prospect of unexpected guests. She wished people would just call first. She’d had too many surprise visits in the past— Santana, Finn…  _ oh, God. Finn. It’s probably Finn, isn’t it? And here Kurt is trying to warn her in the most drunk, disrespectful way possible. _

She’s not about to answer the door in a purple shirt and shorts with cats on both,  _ and _ fuzzy pink slippers.

Rachel briskly walks into her bedroom, making a beeline to her armoire.  _ How do you dress for a boy who you’ve grown out of? _ Rachel blinks at the clothes in front of her.

She’s truly at a loss, and she’s going to kill Kurt.

She decides on a patterned black and white sweater and dark capri pants. Casual, but comfy. Really, this is  _ her _ apartment, and she can wear whatever she wants.

She walks back to the kitchen, looking forlornly at her curry. She snaps the top back on the container and sets it in the fridge. It’d be for another time. She’d had a snack earlier, so she’s… fine. She’s okay.

_ Who else would Kurt teasingly use the word “Special” for? _ Special requires you to like the person. Special requires that person to mean something to you. Does Rachel like Finn? Sure, she likes him. He’s kind, most of the time. He’s always supported her, for the most part. But does Finn mean something to Rachel?  _ As a friend, sure _ , she thinks. Does Drunk Kurt know that, or care?  _ Not likely _ .

Finn had just  _ been _ there for so long, and Rachel had held onto that. No one had ever really stuck around like he had. At the time, that was what she had needed. But it wasn’t that simple anymore. Rachel had been patient for so long, just  _ waiting _ for the life she has now. And sure, it wasn’t the perfect scenario she had always planned in her head, there had been some hiccups, but now, everything was  _ big _ . Big city, big school, big things waiting for her around the corner. Finn just… doesn’t fit. Rachel aches for something different. Not necessarily something “big”, but something— someone that fits.

And, really, she’s caught glimpses of this in the past. Rachel  _ knows  _ who fits. It had taken a while to realize. She’d always been so driven to succeed, and she’d thought Finn was her golden ticket, her leading man. Once the relationship with Finn had ended, she had felt lost, but it had given her room to think. And Rachel’s mind started to wander. And she thought about  _ Quinn _ . Her being there when Rachel found out who her mom was. And her hand finding Rachel’s on the auditorium stage, jumping around and feeling so reckless and so  _ happy  _ as Mercedes and Tina seamlessly ran through their song of the week. And her, at the edge of the piano, letting loose a storm of getting it right.

And when Rachel realized that she’d lost both Finn  _ and  _ Quinn after high school, her emotions became totally backwards. Losing Finn was almost a sense of relief, a feeling she still can’t help feeling guilty for. But losing Quinn… oh, losing Quinn was dread, a violent feeling of  _ almost _ . Rachel had learned in her psychology class about people that feel a sense of unfinished business after going through a loss. This concept is usually being applied to a person passing away, but she thinks that this counts, too.

Rachel knows Quinn felt  _ something _ those three years of high school. It meant something that Quinn told her things nobody else got to hear, right? Or maybe she just said those things because she knew Rachel wouldn’t tell anybody else. Maybe she knew Rachel would be a good enough friend to keep the secret that Quinn felt things, felt  _ so  _ much. Rachel had been oblivious for so long, but there came a point where she’d looked back on every interaction, every  _ look _ , and understood that there was an energy between the two of them that went far beyond the limits of brief bathroom encounters. So yeah, losing Quinn after graduation was, in fact, a  _ loss _ .

And Rachel still can’t help but wonder if Quinn lost her, too.

Rachel tries sitting on the sofa to wait, but that lasts for only about five minutes before she stands back up and starts uselessly fumbling around with different things that are laying around, telling herself that cleaning up the apartment was something an adult like her should do at a time like this. Books to the bookshelf, pens to the desk, purse to the—

There’s a gentle knock on the sliding door. Three times.

Rachel stops in her tracks. She’s fine, everything’s  _ fine _ . She lets out a breath of a laugh, not believing how stressed out she’s getting over this. She just  _ doesn’t _ want it to be Finn. She walks over to the door, takes a deep breath, exhaling as the door moves out of the way.

The person standing in front of her is definitely not Finn Hudson. She briefly wonders if her adamant opposition to talk to him led another person to materialize instead. And Quinn Fabray, of all people. The person she was, embarrassingly,  _ just _ thinking about.

The reaction she’d had at her disposal right before she’d slid open the door was anger. She had been completely expecting Finn, and he was  _ not _ allowed to just show up unexpected at her door, even though she technically knew 30 minutes in advance. She would be ill-suited to his presence no matter how much time he gave her. She was supposed to be angry. But now Quinn stood in front of her, and the tiny rage inside completely dissipated, leaving her to play catch up with all the words gathering in her throat.

Suffocating her.

It was a smart move to stay silent, anyway, because Quinn actually looked  _ sheepish _ to be standing there in front of her. Rachel thinks maybe the slow death she’s experiencing right now has a side effect of hallucinations because… Quinn actually showing her embarrassment? Possible, but rare. Quinn actually showing her embarrassment without becoming visibly angry at herself for having that kind of reaction? Unthinkable.

But here she is, doing just that.

Rachel hadn’t seen this face since graduation. Not in the flesh, at least. She had thought of her, of course. They had been friends near the end. She had hoped that their relationship would have continued, grew into something more. Quinn had given her tickets so they could see each other, for god’s sake, and neither of them had used them.

“Quinn.” Rachel almost whispers, not knowing what else to say, not knowing what to feel, not  _ knowing _ . When Kurt had told her that someone  _ special _ was coming to the apartment, she never thought Kurt would mean  _ her _ . Rachel had never really told Kurt about her… inclination towards the former cheerleader. She’d never known what to say to him about it. But hell, if he knows now, he’s probably known all along. Either way, she’s going to  _ kill _ Kurt.

Quinn looks just as dazed as Rachel feels right now. And with a knitted hat and rosy cheeks, she also looks cold. Rachel’s heart kicks inside her chest.

“Hi Rachel.” The way Quinn says her name is still so…  _ Quinn _ . Her words drip of honesty, and Rachel’s not quite sure what Quinn’s being honest about, but it’s there. And Rachel thinks of water droplets slipping off smooth petals, elegant as they fall, potent as they hit the ground below. Quinn’s voice; graceful but searing; simple but meaningful. She almost smiles at this thought but stops herself.

“What are you doing here?” She hopes it doesn’t sound too commanding. She’s angry, but not at Quinn.

“Kurt didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t even tell me  _ who _ was coming.”

“Oh…” Quinn shuffles where she stands, momentarily glancing down at the ground before looking back up at Rachel. “Okay, well, I was visiting the city with a couple friends. They all went back early, but I wanted to stay here and just… enjoy the city a bit more. I ended up running into Kurt at a bar, to my surprise, and I… asked about you. I know it’s been a long time, but—”

“Please tell me that you took a cab to get here? Surely, you weren’t walking around this neighborhood alone  _ at night _ and—” Quinn puffs out air, seemingly thankful for the familiar chiding tone from the girl in front of her.

“Of course I did.”

“Okay, good. Good… Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” Rachel quickly stands to the side to allow Quinn inside the apartment. “Come in, please.”

“Woah, Berry, didn’t know you could swear.” Quinn joked awkwardly. Rachel chuckled as Quinn stepped inside.

“So… I guess this means you’d like to stay over tonight?” Rachel shuts the door behind Quinn.

“I don’t need to, I can always make my way back to the train station later tonight. I’m sorry if you were busy, Kurt said—”

“ _ Quinn _ . It’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything. And yes, you can stay.” Quinn looks so apologetic and nervous and  _ what _ is happening?

“Okay.” She gives Rachel a tight smile, looking down as she starts to slip off her boots near the door.

“Okay. I can take your bag and put it in my room. Kurt may be back tonight, so I wouldn’t advise sleeping in his room. For many reasons, actually. I’ll sleep on the couch and you may stay in my room.”

“Oh god, no. There’s no way I’m barging in on your life while simultaneously stealing your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch."

“But—”

“Rachel.” Quinn’s assertive tone and raised eyebrow abruptly cease the argument Rachel that was just about to start. It’s funny how fast they both can slip back into this mold they constructed for themselves over the years. Always with the push and pull.

“Quinn.” The girl in front of her really  _ should _ know better by now. They haven’t seen each other for a while, but that doesn’t mean Rachel doesn’t know how to face Quinn when she pulls a look right out of the HBIC handbook. Two can play at that game. Push and pull. “I am offering my bed as I know that you have sustained back issues from your accident. So, are you sure the couch will be okay? Because if you’re just saying that to be polite…”

“As long as the couch isn’t upholstered concrete, I promise you, it will be okay for the night.”

Rachel looks for any signs that Quinn is lying to her but doesn’t find any. “Okay,” she replies, nodding her head. “If you really feel you must, you may sleep on the couch. It’s actually very comfortable.”

“Thank you. And it’s… nice seeing you.”

Rachel gives her a warm smile, gesturing for Quinn to hand over the bag. She grabs it and sets it on the couch. When she turns around, she watches Quinn glancing around at the apartment. For the first time this evening, Rachel finally notices the little changes in Quinn that have happened since graduation. Quinn’s hair had grown out a little compared to the length it was their senior year. And the way she carries herself is different. Quinn is  _ softer _ now, settled. Rachel can still remember the hard-edged girl from sophomore year that held onto too much and said too little.

She’s wearing a sweater similar to Rachel’s, but hers is dark blue. She’s wearing dark skinny jeans, and Rachel thinks the best part might just be the snowflake socks that are adorning Quinn’s feet.

_ God _ . She really wasn’t expecting this.

Rachel’s eyes lift to see Quinn looking back at her. “Would you like to sit?”

Quinn tips her head once, walking over and sitting respectfully next to her bag with one leg underneath her. Rachel moves to sit down on the opposite side of the sofa, and her body naturally turns towards Quinn’s.

Everything had felt a little awkward so far, but Rachel really wouldn’t have expected any different. It had been a while since they had seen each other. And they had never really gotten the hang of being friends, anyways. Their moments together always felt rushed because there was always stuff to do and things to get back to. Which was less than ideal because sometimes, Rachel just wanted to stay for a little while longer, even when they were fighting about the things that seem so trivial now.

Then, Rachel was off to New York and Quinn to New Haven.

“How’ve you been?” Rachel asks this even though she already sort of  _ knows  _ how she’s been. Not a lot, but she knows a few things after checking Quinn’s social media every couple of months. Quinn took a trip to Tucson with her mom in October. Quinn went back to Lima for a weekend in November. Quinn posts music she likes, and occasionally, food that she eats. One day in December, Quinn posted a picture of her and Beth, and Rachel’s heart  _ ached _ .

Sometimes, Rachel finds herself wondering what Quinn might be thinking when she sees her posts. Or if she even cares anymore.

She’d like to think that Quinn is  _ proud _ of her like she is proud of Quinn.

And right now, even though Rachel knows they’ve always been incapable of having anything that resembles a normal conversation, it doesn’t mean she wouldn’t like to try.

“I’ve been okay. Just going to school.”

“What are you studying?” She repositions with her legs beneath her and her head against her fist, fully facing Quinn now.

Quinn perks up at this question. “Russian Literature, actually.”

Laughter lights up Rachel’s face and she’s nodding because somehow, that makes a lot of sense to her. Her eyes look down as she briefly imagines Quinn passionate about something. Going to class and being excited to learn. In high school, she didn’t see that too often.

“What?” Quinn says in a defensive tone. Rachel hears this and expects her to actually be defensive, because it’s _Quinn_ , but when she looks up, Quinn is _smiling_ at her. Granted, her eyebrows are furrowed in bemusement at Rachel’s reaction, but her gaze is soft and playful.

“I don’t know, I guess that just makes sense to me. Have you had to read  _ War and Peace _ ?”

“Of course, Rachel. That book is  _ absolutely _ required.”

“I’ve heard that you basically have to make a character map of everybody in the book to actually understand who’s who and what’s going on.”

“That’s, like, the best part of reading it. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, Rachel,” Quinn chides as if she’s offended but she’s also biting her lip as if she’s trying to stop a smile from spreading across her face  _ again _ , and… Wow. This is nothing and everything like Rachel thought hanging out with Quinn Fabray would be like.

Rachel scrunches up her face, shaking her head. And she can’t help but let herself break out into a broad smile because she realizes she doesn’t have to  _ imagine _ Quinn passionate about something when it’s right in front of her, warming up the room around them.

Maybe Rachel isn’t as mad at Kurt as she thought she was.

“Ugh, but it’s  _ such _ a long book.”

“Sometimes the things that take time are the best things.”

Rachel really can’t argue with that, even though she plans on avoiding  _ War and Peace _ at all costs. She also suddenly remembers to be a hospitable host. “Would you like anything to drink? Or eat?”

“No thank you, I think I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I could make us some tea?”

Quinn thinks for a moment before she answers. “Okay, sure. Tea would be nice.” Rachel gets up from the couch to head to the kitchen. She passes between the coffee table on her left and Quinn on her right. The side of her leg lightly brushes up against Quinn’s knee, and she finds herself wanting to apologize, like it’s a hard-wired response straight out of high school.

She stays in the kitchen while the water heats up on the stovetop. The kitchen is where it’s safe, where her thoughts can wander without her wanting to do something about them. Rachel stands next to the dining table, looking over at Quinn and the hand that is currently fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “What were you and your friends doing today?”

“Oh, we just like to shop around. It’s nice to just get out and do something in a place that’s not New Haven.”

Something occurs to Rachel at that moment, and she can’t help but ask, “And I suppose you used your Metro Pass?”

Quinn is still looking down at the damn bag when she says, “Yes, but it was a— a different one. The one I bought for us… expired.”

Rachel hears the word  _ us _ and, really, she’s been feeling okay and happy and light in the handful of minutes that Quinn’s been here because everything’s  _ good _ and everything’s  _ fine _ , but she hears that word and feels the familiar ache that blooms in her chest when she’s about to cry. And right on schedule, tears are form in her eyes— as if they are gathering to witness to the mess she’s about to make. And she needs to say  _ something _ . She needs to say— “I’m so sorry.” Quinn looks up from the bag abruptly, an immediate reaction to the tremulous tone of Rachel’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

The handle of the bag falls from Quinn’s hand. She stands up slowly, calmly, and walks over to the kitchen. The water is boiling now, and Quinn takes the pot off the stove, turning the heat off. She stands in front of Rachel but keeps a short distance between them. Rachel’s looking down, and there are obvious tears falling freely from her face to the ground. And it’s so  _ stupid, _ but keeps repeating the same phrase in her head, over and over, like a mantra.

_ Someone that fits. Someone that fits. Someone that fits. _

Quinn takes a deep breath and, “I’m sorry, too,” slips out so quietly that Rachel almost doesn’t hear it because of an ill-timed sniffle. “I wanted to use the ticket, but I got so busy, and honestly… I was afraid.”

Rachel looks up at the girl in front of her. As much miscommunication as they experienced in high school, there was always a desire to be vulnerable with each other whenever they were alone. She had grown to crave it throughout high school. She had missed it. “You were afraid? Of… of what?”

“Of what it could lead to.” Quinn’s looking directly into Rachel’s eyes so intensely now and it’s like the volume to the universe has been turned off just for the after-effects of those words. Suddenly, Rachel can feel the ground shake, but New York is definitely not experiencing an earthquake right now and that’s when Quinn decides to break eye contact with her. She turns her head to where Quinn is looking to see the noisy front door being slid shut by Kurt.

And just like that, their little Quinn and Rachel microcosm is interrupted by life again.

“Good evening, ladies!” He sounds slightly drunk, which Rachel immediately thinks is good because maybe that means he won’t notice that she’s been crying. Rachel quickly turns around and discreetly wipes at her face. She grabs two mugs that are conveniently sitting next to the stove when she hears Quinn greet him politely. Rachel is scared to speak because she fears that her voice might still be shaky from  _ whatever the fuck just happened _ . She gently pours hot water into both cups and sinks two tea bags in to steep.

“The cute guy from the bar turned out to be an absolute  _ dick _ . I mean, I’m sure he had a great one but—”

“Kurt?” Quinn does her best to cut Kurt off before he goes into more detail. Rachel feels Quinn’s presence closer to her than she was seconds ago. Rachel still faces towards the countertop, but she can tell from Quinn’s voice, tell from just that one  _ word _ , what Quinn is about to do.

“Hmm?”

“I’d love to catch up with you, but Rachel has a headache right now, and I think she’d appreciate a bit of peace and quiet as the night wears down.” Rachel almost laughs at this because  _ how can Quinn sound so polite but so firm at the same time? _

“Oh.  _ Oh _ ! I see what’s going on here!” Kurt’s voice singsongs playfully, and Rachel’s sure that he throws a drunken wink to Quinn in there somewhere. “I’ll be out of your hair in  _ just _ a moment, and then you can go back to… doing whatever it is you weirdos do. God, you guys have always been so weird…” She hears him move around, probably taking his coat off and putting it on a chair. He walks over towards the kitchen and Rachel feels Quinn shuffle closer to her. “You made tea, Rachel! You never make tea. I love tea.”

“It’s for my… headache.” She considers it a success that her voice stays even. She hesitantly turns to Kurt, but he doesn’t seem to be paying too close attention to her face anyways.

“ _Sure_ , it is,” he smirks lopsidedly. “If you aren’t going to have the other cup, Quinn, could I have it?” He’s reaching for it before he even finishes asking the question.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” Rachel frowns at Quinn because _that’s literally your tea, why are you being so amiable towards the tea stealer?_ But Quinn just gives her a small smile and moves out of the way so Kurt can take the cup. He grabs the tea, and without another word, disappears to his bedroom. Rachel’s mildly surprised that he managed to not spill on his way. Even so, he must have been drunker than she thought because he gets especially annoying when he drinks too much, and that whole interaction was absolutely _grating_.

She loves Kurt, she really does, but she’s having trouble keeping a multitude of emotions in check right now. He stumbled in on something that he probably shouldn’t have, something that she had desperately wanted to continue, no matter how many tears were falling down her face. She doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen now. Are they the Quinn and Rachel who keep things bottled up, just like old times, or are they New Quinn and Rachel who talk about the things they’ve said, these fragile things that teeter on the edge of their usual limits?

She hands the only mug of tea to Quinn. Quinn just sort of looks at her for a moment. It’s the face she makes when she wants to say something but doesn’t know how to articulate her words. Quinn holds the mug in her hand, blowing on the surface before taking a small sip. It had probably become almost the perfect temperature after what had just happened.

“Why’d you let him have your tea?”

“Got him to leave faster, didn’t it?” Quinn takes another sip before she holds it out for Rachel to take. “Would you like some?”

“Are you sick?”

“I assure you I wouldn’t be offering if I was.”

“You may not feel sick, but there are plenty of illnesses that start before you experience any of the symptoms.”

“Okay, Dr. Berry, diagnose me then.” Quinn’s eyes sparkle with mirth.

_ Well. Okay. _ That’s the most forward Quinn has been… ever.  _ I diagnose you with a serious case of confusing the hell out of me since sophomore year with a side of please tell me why you’re looking at me like that right now. _

Rachel laughs lightly, not quite knowing how Quinn wants her to respond. She’s honestly just glad that Quinn’s not slipping into the hard shell that she used to adorn so well. She’s being open, and it’s letting Rachel feel comfortable to open up as well. “Give me that cup.”

Quinn hands it over gingerly. They don’t brush hands like romantic movies show on repeat, but it feels like they exchange something in that moment anyway. And Rachel wants to keep this moment forever. A flower, pressed and dried into her memory. So little time has passed in the big scheme of things, but she feels different. This feels different.

So, she sets the cup down on the table.

“Oh, so you’re actually  _ not _ going to drink it? Are you really that afraid—”

“Yes.” Rachel immediately looks down at her feet because she’s about to risk sinking a ship in order to build a new one. “I was scared too, Quinn. I’m still scared.” Rachel waits for her to say something, but silence fills the room and she feels the dread of losing Quinn all over again. She still can’t find it in her to look up at Quinn. She’s terrified of what she’d see. She’s terrified of what she’s ruined.

She wishes she had just taken a sip of the damn tea, instead.

Quinn takes a calculated breath and speaks. “Do you know how far it is from New York to New Haven?” Rachel’s curiosity wins out, and she looks up. Quinn’s looking more at Rachel’s shoulder than at anything else, but it warms her skin anyway.

“About eighty miles.” Rachel knows because  _ of course _ she knows.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” Quinn finally looks at Rachel’s face.

Rachel knows her eyes are shining again but instead of making her feel weak it makes her feel brave and— “Kiss me.”

Quinn leans towards her like it’s a reflex, like she’s done it a thousand times before, and brushes her lips against Rachel’s. Rachel immediately pulls Quinn closer by the waist because  _ god _ , kissing Quinn means kissing away the violent feelings of almost. Kissing Quinn feels like the  _ opposite _ of trying to recapture old feelings that dissolved over time because, well, she never got the chance to feel those things in the first place.

A hand ends up on one side of Rachel’s face, Quinn’s thumb brushing below her ear, like a gentle note played over and over.

Kissing Quinn is about creating new feelings, about getting to know the girl she’s cradled in her heart for so long, waiting, waiting, waiting. There’s been this desperation wrapped up inside of her for so long, and she feels herself unraveling against Quinn’s lips.

The feeling is incredible, better than the best of her exploits. Bigger than Lima. Bigger than  _ New York _ , even. This doesn’t feel reckless, or surprising, or spontaneous. Rachel’s heart is beating on neat, perforated lines and she feels herself sinking into this, giving herself to Quinn.

 

* * *

 

The night comes to a close with them in Rachel’s bed, wrapped up in each other, around each other,  _ with _ each other. They’ve tired themselves out with fervent touches and honest words and quiet exhales, the kind of push and pull Rachel never imagined actually happening between her and Quinn.

A kind of push and pull that fits.

_ Someone _ that fits.

And Rachel’s last thought before she falls asleep is that Quinn was the one calling with the default ringtone.

She’ll have to change that.

_ fin. _

 


End file.
